


Glitch in the System: Halloween Terror

by SystemGlitch



Category: Overwatch (Video Game)
Genre: Costumes, F/F, Halloween Costumes, festive gourd season motherfuckers, halloween motherfuckers
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-11-01
Updated: 2017-11-01
Packaged: 2019-01-28 00:08:51
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,186
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12593636
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/SystemGlitch/pseuds/SystemGlitch
Summary: By E.Costumes happen.





	Glitch in the System: Halloween Terror

“Are you ready?” Sombra asked from the bathroom, making a few last-minute adjustments to her costume before the big reveal.

“ _Oui_ ,” Widowmaker replied, lounging on the big comfy chair in Sombra’s bedroom.

“Here it is!” Sombra announced, stepping out in the costume she had labored over the past three weeks. Crafted meticulously from an old bedsheet and several discarded articles of clothing, she’d put together a colorful dress cinched at the waist with a bright red ribbon. To top it all off was a giant floppy hat, covered in feathers and flowers and shaped a bit like an umbrella with fringe on it.

It wasn’t perfect, but it was close enough. Sewing was far from Sombra’s strong suit - in fact, if pressed, she’d be forced to admit she knew almost nothing about it - but handmade costumes were invariably better than store bought, and she’d had to try her hand at it despite not possessing any of the requisite skills to create one.

Besides, she figured - how bad could it be?

“Oh,” Widowmaker replied, answering her question in one succinct phrase as she looked conflicted staring at Sombra’s patched-together costume.

“What?” Sombra asked, side-eying her suspiciously.

“Nothing. It is cute. You are cute.” She stood up and ducked under the brim of the hat to place a kiss on her cheek, wrinkling her nose slightly as the fringe tickled her forehead.

Sombra crossed her arms and looked up suspiciously. “I don’t believe a fucking word out of your mouth,  _araña_ , but I like it when you call me ‘cute’ so I’m gonna let it slide.”

“That is a lovely hat,” Widowmaker said, trying her hardest to keep from laughing at the sad excuse for headware.

“It’s from La Calavera Catrina,” Sombra replied, shifting it more securely on her head. It was easier said than done; she should probably have used a more sturdy material than felt and plastic. “What are you dressing up as?” she deflected, giving up on the hat.

“A sniper.”

Sombra frowned at her. “You can’t dress up as a sniper, Widow. You  _are_  a sniper.”

“Yes, well it will be an easy costume then, no?” she replied, doing her best not to make eye contact with the dapper skeleton before her.

“Widow,” Sombra sighed, the sides of her hat flopping around her ears, “the party is  _today_. It’s the biggest event Talon hosts all year, save for the fanfare it puts behind murder.”

Widowmaker shrugged, avoiding eye contact, and suddenly becoming very distracted by Toulouse as he wandered around with the special black and orange Halloween pumpkin collar Sombra had made Widowmaker buy him the last time she was out.

“ _Widow_ ,” she said again, hands on her hips as she stared incredulously at the sniper. “Did you get a costume? Gabe told you to get a costume. Akande told you to get a costume.  _I_  told you to get a costume.”

Widowmaker stood up, letting Toulouse wind around her ankles. “I did not have time?”

Sombra narrowed her eyes at the spider and slowly, threateningly removed her hat, setting it on the bedpost where it hung like a sad, limp basket. Walking over to her, Sombra gently took the sniper’s hands in hers and looked the her dead in the eyes.

“Get your coat. We are going costume shopping.”

* * *

The costume shop, as it turned out, was having a Halloween event, and was packed with those there for the festivities as well as last minute shoppers. Furthermore, there were children  _everywhere_ , running around in all manner of costumes from lions to superheroes to historical figures from years past.

Sombra grinned at one as he ran by, dressed up to look like none other than Reinhardt Wilhelm, foam axe in hand and all.

“ _Cuidado, niño_ ,” she cautioned him as he tripped over his oversized boots, dropping his weapon in the process. Sombra leaned over to pick it up, handing it back and adjusting his crooked helmet before sending him back out into the fray.

“I never considered you one for children,” Widowmaker commented, looking decidedly uninterested in the horde of minions laughing around her. She was standing beside the hacker, still and uncomfortable as they perused the racks of overpriced, poorly-made costumes for something suitable.

“Kids are ok,” Sombra shrugged, reaching into one of the gratis buckets of candy scattered throughout the store, flipping a handful of chocolate into her mouth. Widowmaker eyed her suspiciously.

“They are ok?” she asked, slapping the next piece of candy from Sombra’s hand before she ate the entire pumpkinful.

“Yeah. They’re ok. Like little blank slates of potential. Kids believe anything, you know?” she replied, eyeing at the bucket of sweets and trying not to be obvious about it. “You can train them up to be whatever you want if you’re quick enough about it.”

Widowmaker nodded, one eyebrow raised. “You like children,” she said slowly, “because they can be more easily manipulated than adults?”

“In not so many words - yeah,” she replied, snatching another piece of candy and shoving it into her mouth before Widowmaker could stop her. “Now stop procrastinating. We’re not leaving until we find you something to wear.”

Widowmaker groaned, rolling her eyes so hard Sombra worried she might hurt herself, and followed the hacker back into the aisles. They were narrow and claustrophobic, mixed fabrics catching on anyone who passed so that the entire row was in a near-constant state of swaying back and forth. It would have been great for hide and seek; not so wonderful for a stress-free shopping experience.

“How about this?” Sombra asked between choking laughs from an aisle over. Widowmaker turned the corner to find her halfway inside one part of a two-person spider suit, wiggling its abdomen around in amusement. “It takes two,  _araña_.”

“No,” she said, rubbing her eyes.

“You can be the head.”

“ _No_.”

“Spoilsport,” Sombra said as she shed the costume and tossed it back on the rack. Before Widowmaker could respond, she’d disappeared down another aisle, leaving the sniper to her own devices.

The hacker peeked through the costumes periodically, surreptitiously watching as Widow wandered around, flipping unenthusiastically through costume after costume. Periodically she’d pull one out, inspect it, frown, and put it back. Sombra would poke her head around the corner from time to time to remind her that the clock was ticking, and that she may as well pick something so they could leave.

“It doesn’t have to be fancy, Widow. You could dress up as anything and still turn heads.” Holding out a simple vampire costume for her approval, the hacker shrugged.

“Attention is not always flattering,  _cherie_ ,” she replied, dismissing the suggestion out of hand. Reinhardt ran by again, more dexterously this time, and Widowmaker watched the small child with curiosity. “And if I am going to do this, I am going to do this right.”

“Sure,” Sombra said, quickly producing a replacement for the rejected vampire. Widowmaker leveled a withering look at her, and she tossed the nursery rhyme Miss Muffet costume off to the side.

“All right. I’ll leave you to it then.” Turning with exaggerated affront, Sombra vanished back into the maze of the shop, busying herself by browsing accessories and occasionally sniping another sweet. The shop was larger than she’d originally realized, and there was an whole section in the basement dedicated entirely to masks and makeup that she happily vanished into until Widowmaker was ready to go.

“I am ready,” came Widowmaker’s droll, exasperated voice from upstairs a half hour later. Sombra turned from the elf ears she was trying on to see the spider standing by the door, arms laden with bags of purchases and frowned.

“You already checked out?” she asked suspiciously, running up the stairs and reaching for the bags to see what she’d bought.

“ _Oui_ ,” Widow replied, shifting out of her reach.

“Well what is it?” the hacker asked, hands on her hips.

“You will see.”

“Seriously?”

Widowmaker smirked and headed for the exit.

“Excuse me ma’am?” a small voice called out as they were about to leave, and both women looked down to see a small child dressed as the Hulk peering up at them curiously. “How did you get your skin so blue?” he asked, gaping at Widowmaker through his mask. “It looks real.”

Widowmaker smiled in the most deeply patronizing way, leaning down so as to be at eye level. Sombra bit back a laugh at the kid’s expense. “Constrict blood flow to the body by slowing down the rate at which your heart beats,” she replied casually. “Extensive invasive bioengineering.”

“Oh,” the boy replied, blinking, looking down at his patchy green skin. “I use Mehron.”

“Looks great. Gotta run,” Sombra said, pushing Widowmaker out of the store. She snatched a final candy on her way out.

“Peanut butter cup?” she asked, holding it out without any real expectation that the sniper would indulge.

Widowmaker snatched it from her hand without so much as a word, smiling as she popped it into her mouth and headed down the street.

* * *

They had less than an hour to prepare for the party when they got home, and Sombra ushered Widow into her room to change before she could muster up a reason to skip. The sniper acquiesced, closing the door and refusing to let the hacker see her until she was dressed. When Widow stepped out of her room, Sombra gaped.

“Are you fucking  _kidding_  me,  _araña_?” she asked, knowing full well that this was no joke.

“I am not,” she said, straightening her eyepatch and adjusting the blue-rimmed hood over her forehead. “Is it bad?” she asked in a sudden fit of self-consciousness.

“Bad? Widow, it’s _brilliant_.” Laughing, Sombra walked up to her and straightened the collar of her jacket. “But where did you find an Ana Amari costume?”

“It is a combination of three different pirates, a hockey player, and something labeled a wasteland wanderer.” She turned to look at herself in the mirror, allowing a small, self-satisfied smile to take up residence across her face. “Your small Reinhardt friend gave me the idea.”

“That explains the size of the bag you left with,” Sombra smiled, still beaming at Widow’s ensemble. “God, you are so fucking petty. I love it.”

“It is ok?” Widow asked cautiously.

“Yeah, it’s great. Gabe’s going to shit.” Standing on her toes, she grabbed her lapels and kissed the spider twice, letting the last one linger a bit longer than was responsible for the time constraint they were under. “I feel kind of strange being attracted to Amari, though?”

Widowmaker smiled sardonically, watching her through her one usable eye. “You’re going to be okay,” she said in a poor imitation of the older woman’s accent.

“Ugh,” Sombra groaned, rolling her eyes and walking toward the door. “I’m going to get dressed. Be ready in fifteen?” she asked, hands on her hips.

“I’ll be downstairs.”

* * *

They arrived at the ball fashionably late, pausing at the top of the grand staircase to look down at the collection of their colleagues - Talon’s best, dressed to kill, and ready to do the opposite for just one night. It was a tactical disaster having most of the company together in one place, but it was likely there was nothing more well-protected than the mansion was that night. Sombra had seen to the security herself.

Besides - it was Halloween. Everyone was too busy having a good time to worry about murder and machinations for once.

“Look, Gabe’s here,” Sombra said, tugging on Widowmaker’s sleeve and pressing close against her. “He’s got a pumpkin on his head.”

“That was his costume last year,” Widow mused, watching the man mingle uncomfortably. He was too high-ranking to skip out on the evening, but the only person who liked small talk less than Gabriel Reyes was Widowmaker. Luckily Sombra was more than willing to do the talking for her. “Akande is here as well.”

“Boring,” Sombra sighed, frowning at the tall, well-dressed man in his suit and a top hat. The only thing festive about him was the white skull bowtie he wore around his neck. “Hard to be mad at him, though - he’s devilishly good looking in that thing.”

“Shall we?” Widow asked, nodding at the milling crowd. “I could use some wine.”

“As always. Hold on,” Sombra said, adjusting her hat. “Time for the finishing touch.”

“Finishing touch?” Widowmaker asked, tilting her head in curiosity.

“You didn’t think this was it, did you?” Somra said, grinning. “ _Mira_.” Running a finger along the inside of her hat, she was suddenly illuminated in black light. At the same time, she activated her camo just enough that she seemed, on closer inspection, to be translucent save for the glowing Los Muertos tattoos along her face, chest, and forearms.

“La Calavera Catrina, indeed,” Widowmaker exclaimed, a slow mixture of amusement and affection coloring her expression. “You always have something up your sleeve.”

“Be my date?” Sombra asked, holding out her arm.

“I would like nothing more,” Widow replied. Taking her outstretched arm in her own, they descended the stairs to join the party together.


End file.
